


Recurring

by Ink_Vein



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Or Frank Iero, Or Samuel L Jackson, Silent hill vibes, Think Deadpool, This whole thing doesn't make sense and it's not supposed to until later, WARNING: Foul-mouthed Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 00:50:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16566428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ink_Vein/pseuds/Ink_Vein
Summary: I left the bunker, but the bunker never left me.





	1. Phase 1a

I shoot upright, abruptly awake. “SHIT-FUCK,” flies out of my mouth before I can even stop it. Not that I would: my vocabulary pretty much consists of unnecessary expletives. However, ‘fuck’ devolves into a violent series of splutters and coughs before it can even finish forming. It’s now I realize how old and stuffy the room I’m in is. Goddamn  _ ancient _ is more like it. “Holy shit…” I muse to the skeleton trying to fondle me. I’m the only living thing in here. The only thing with meat still on it, too. All around me are bones. I’m in a fucking mass grave.

Kicking Pervy Bones off me, I assess my surroundings. Well, aside from all the death, it looks like a shit-ton of metal. Like somebody fused together a junkyard. A bunker. I’m in a mass grave in a goddamn bunker. Like always, I can’t remember shit leading up to waking up here. My body goes through a reset or what the fuck ever every time I sleep. Or wake up. Shit’s confusing, but I live with it. It’s become part of me, as much as my propensity to pepper my speech. And yeah, I just used a ten-cent word. Bite me.

The bunker seems to be a one-room type of thing, so I search for a hatch. I’ll be damned if I’m gonna be stuck in one room. Pervy Bones here ain’t gettin’ no more friends. Kicking more bones out of my way, I follow instinct to pound on the wall and listen to the sound. Slowly, but shit if it’s patiently, I make my way around the room. Damn if this isn’t more of a cell to keep people in than a bunker to keep danger out. Am I in a fucking death room? More frantically, I test the wall, finally finding a small latch hidden by optical illusion a few feet to my right.

The latch clicks loudly in the silent room, echoing ominously. But not as loud as my victory screech. “ _ Fuck yeah! _ ” I cry, punching the wall. “Later, bitches!” Pervy Bones deadpans at my various obscene gestures.

A portion of wall on my left slides together like one of those luggage carousels. “Niiice…” slides it’s way out of my mouth in lieu of a proper expletive. Then my attention is drawn in front of me.

This does deserve an expletive. “ _ Motherfucker _ …” I growl at the eerie long hallway stretching before me.

 

I’ve been walking for at least thirty fucking minutes, and still the hall stretches on. No doors, no windows, not even a damn trace I’ve made progress. Just the sight of the end of the hall in front of me and behind me. The metal under my feet clangs with each step, and when I look down I can see scuffs where it’s been walked on before. Thank fuck! Someone else is here, or at least was here, and maybe I can follow their trail. Let’s hope to whatever deity I’m not following Pervy Bones or his groupies.

After another thirty minutes, I start to notice a pattern in the scuffs. No… “For the love of…” I release all my pent-up rage on the wall to my left, screaming every form of every expletive I can ever remember learning. By the time I’m done there’s a noticeable dent in the wall. “Repeat that, bitch.”

And it does. As I keep walking, every 20 feet or whatever, a large dent appears in the wall. It’s repeating. The entire fucking hall repeats every 7 or so feet. Just enough so that I can’t see it unless I’m really looking.

That’s it. I’m done. Just let me go back to the damn tomb and lie down next to the Pervy Bones Posse. I flop down onto the floor, grinding the heels of my hands into my eyes until there’s a universe behind my eyelids. Laying back, I drive my heels into the ground just as viciously, hoping the pain and pressure on both ends will give me some damn clue. When exploring the universe proves to be shit, I finally release my eyes and sit up.

“HOLY FUCK!” My kicking propels me backward along the floor, but it doesn’t change anything. Just up ahead, on the right, is a door. A  _ fucking door _ . Okay, what kinda voodoo shit is this place trying to play? Both ends of the hall are still the same, but the door is definitely new, right? My head fucking hurts.

Wearily, I stand and face this new development. What strikes me first is that it doesn’t fit in with this hall at all. The hall is all metal like the bunker room, but the door I’m now standing in front of is thin white wood. The number 8 hangs upside down and crooked at eye level. I can just barely make out the outline of another 8, also crooked. Figuring ‘what the fuck? Let’s go for it!’ I slowly turn the 8 to match up with the outline. When let go of, it stays.

I wait. And not a damn thing happens.

Then, the door violently swings outward.


	2. GOOD NEWS!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thank you for your interest in this story! Unfortunately, I won't be updating any time soon...because I am now a published author! Check out the link below to my debut novel.

     Plethora turns even the most hardy defenseless and overwhelmed. In a world intent on destroying humanity, five Survivors wonder if it is really worth fighting for.  
     Check out my debut novel, [Reprogrammed: Book One](http://www.blurb.com/b/9295239-reprogrammed), the first book in the Reprogrammed Trilogy.

**Author's Note:**

> The segments of this will be small, but it's for a reason. Just bear with me on this one. It's very much Silent Hill-esque, but it'll all make sense in the end.


End file.
